


Coping Mechanism

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-17
Updated: 2003-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander likes Scott Bakula.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping Mechanism

"It's a pretty safe bet, you know, Scott Bakula. Doesn't really make you gay at all. Typical."

Xander turned around and the swing set groaned from the shifting weight and the long time misuse. It pulled the wound on his side and he pressed down on it. Andrew stood on the back stoop, sleeves covering his hands. He hugged his body with one arm, and the black on black shadow with the single porch light made him look even more awkward.

"Go away," Xander said. He turned back. The cut didn't hurt as much as it should have, but the blade hadn't entered into his side more than an inch. Spike had even sneered about the lack of ritual markings.

Buffy should definitely get the bushes cut away from the fences. Made it too easy for the snipers. The tall fence didn't provide the security it should have. Andrew stepped off the porch, walking to him. "Maybe I should rephrase that. Go away or I'll smash your face," he said.

Andrew sat down on the other swing, which also groaned under his weight. "That's typical, also. Although I think you need to add an insult at the end there. Faggot or queer would do."

"I didn't mean it like that," Xander said. Usually backtracking came easy to him, but this time his words didn't come easily. He shook his head.

"No, you did," Andrew said. He had his stupid little smile on, like he didn't care he was being insulted, or maybe he did but he was going to be determined not to let it bother him. Xander found himself wondering if it actually worked. "But that's okay. I mean, I get it a lot."

"I bet you do."

Andrew kicked back, tucking his legs under him as he swung. He hadn't pulled his hands from his sleeves as he gripped the chain. "We all can't be big butch things," Andrew said. He had dropped his voice, sounding almost like a regular guy for once.

"Go away," Xander tried again. It was supposed to have been a pithy remark. He tried again. "Go away now."

Andrew continued to swing, ignoring him. Xander found himself reaching over and grabbing Andrew's chain, pulling him towards him suddenly. The change of trajectory caused his mouth to open, but then closed it again, inches away from Xander's face. "This is supposed to scare me? In case you forgot, I faced down the first tonight. What are you going to do that will be worse than that?"

Another heartbeat passed. Xander could see himself, drawing back his fist, sending Andrew flying across the dark grass, standing over him, but then saw Andrew's face. His lips were parted.

"Go ahead. If that's what you want. It's called transference, but you don't need to know that right now. It'll make you feel better."

"You're evil," Xander said. The weight of Andrew on the swing was more than he had imagined it to be and holding the swing to him was starting to pull. Andrew reached up, touching his hand, and smiled as Xander caught his breath at the touch.

A black sleeve waved back to him over Andrew's shoulder. Xander continued swinging for a heartbeat, knowing the decision was here and now, and then stood up after him. Andrew only had another step to go to get to the porch, but he didn't fight as Xander spun him around. Andrew's mouth was open again, not in surprise, not out of panic, just open. Andrew's pale hand slipped from the sleeve and touched Xander's bare chest and for the first time he realized how cold he was.

"If you hurt me on purpose, I'll tell Buffy. And she'll definitely kick your ass," Andrew said. And he was probably right. From what Willow said, like it or not Andrew was one of them now and under Buffy's protection. His mouth was open too, he could feel his tongue drying, but he couldn't close it. Andrew smiled yet again, more knowingly this time, and dropped to his knees, hands going to the belt-loops. It was stupid, Xander knew, stupid and vulnerable and if anyone saw him in the middle of the backyard with Andrew on his knees in front of him--but Andrew was still smiling. "Don't worry about them."

His fly came down. His fly came down and the button undid and warm breath touched him for the first time in almost a year. He jumped again, feeling himself move against the wrong sort of chin. Andrew was still watching him, not moving, and Xander found himself nodding. "Go away," he said, a final time, but pulled Andrew to him.

Andrew understood. The night air only touched Xander's skin for a heartbeat before it was warm again. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound. Through the kitchen window he could see the island and the refrigerator and if anyone of a dozen people came down for anything as simple as a glass of water they would see him standing in the porch light.

But it stopped mattering. Andrew's mouth was wet and warm and after a year of nothing but nothing and it was better than anything. He was making sounds in the back of his throat now, strangling half-cries, and the desire to grab Andrew's hair and make it faster harder better more and now was almost too much. And then it was too much and he was up and over and cold as Andrew pulled away, wiping his chin. Xander stumbled away, leaning against the swing-set bars to compose himself and his pants. He tried not to hear Andrew spitting up something in the flower garden.

When his heartbeat returned to normal, and he could swallow without a dry mouth, he looked over to Andrew, but was alone in the darkness. Andrew had turned off the porch light on his way inside. Xander followed him, but Andrew had already disappeared into the dining room.

He had made his little nest under the table. It wasn't much--bedding had been at a premium since the slayerettes had come, but the scattering of comic books (all carefully preserved in their mylar bags) and tortilla chip bags (baked, not fried) had marked Andrew's territory. Andrew hadn't turned around. "Don't think you owe me something, 'cause you don't. I don't it isn't, I meanyou're supposed to go off in a huff and pretend like it never happened."

"Get your things."

Andrew turned around. "Get my things? Two things. One, what things, and two, where am I supposed to go? Pissed off the first evil tonight, remember? There are icky things out there with my name on them." Andrew stopped for a minute, cocking his head and pulling on his fingers. "Possibly literally, although I'm not too sure on that. Plus, you know the whole Sunnydale at night thing, not great for the life expectancy"

Xander put his hand on Andrew's shoulder. The nervous tirade dried up in spurts. "Get your things and let's go," he repeated.

Andrew jumped back like he had been electrocuted, pulling one of the big, heavy chairs between them. "Anything happens to me and Buffy's gonna be seriously pissed. Only she might not know, but I'm seriously going to come back as the First and and tell on you!"

Xander shook his head. "What?" he asked. "Buffy has to know the whole 'I sucked Xander off in her backyard' story? I was kinda hoping to keep that, you know, on a need-to-know basis."

"You're not going to kill me?" Andrew asked. The chair slid closer to his body half an inch.

"Andrew, your track-record must be worse than mine when it comes to" Xander still couldn't say it. "I have a spare bed at my place. It's no under the dining room table, but it has ambiance."

"Bed," Andrew said, like he was offering him a premier edition of Spiderman No. 1. "Does it have sheets?"

"Not a table cloth to be found."

Andrew closed his mouth. "No," he said.

Xander shook his head. "Did you just say no?" he asked.

Andrew took another breath. "I think so. Hold on. No. Yes, it was definitely a no."

"Not a good idea, pets."

They both turned around. If they ignored what dripped from the spoon, Spike was eating cereal. "You can't take him out of here. It's not safe."

"Thank you, Mr. I've-sucked-the-blood-from-a-thousand-innocents."

Andrew wasn't paying attention; he was too busy trying to figure out what was in the bowl. When he saw the little crunchy bits he turned even whiter and pulled away. "Yeah, and even I know to stay put." He looked at Andrew, who shied away from his eyes. "Go back to sleep, love. You'll feel better in the morning."

Andrew nodded. "And I'll see you out," Spike said, grabbing Xander by the shirt. Xander batted his hand away, and Spike smiled at that. He didn't fight.

Once home again, Xander stood under the shower until his skin turned red.


End file.
